Yeah, I'm Friends with Benedict Cumberbatch
by ArthielIdhreneth
Summary: Me, moved to England, became casual friends with Ben, he texts me one night and desperately wants me to come over.


It's almost 11:00pm. I prepare to settle down for the evening with Charles Dickens and a steaming cup of peppermint tea. My little old flat in western London is cozy, but it gets a little cold on nights like this. Plus I'm trying to keep the heat from running too much. It's hard enough paying the rent. At least it hasn't started raining. I snuggle up in a pile of blankets and pillows on my bed. Just as I get all warm and comfy my phone vibrates on my nightstand. I'm tempted to ignore it, but I wiggle out of my nest and reach over and turn it on. A text. From Ben.

I met him a few months ago at a Tolkien literary day seminar at Oxford. He was there to learn a bit more about the man who created the character he is playing in the latest Peter Jackson movie. I recognized him immediately but I tried to act cool and not go all fangirl on him. I don't know if the others there knew who he was or maybe Brits are just really good at pretending a famous actor in the room is no big deal. Oddly enough, he struck up a conversation with me. No small talk. Just, "What do you think? Do you agree with Shippey that because of Tolkien, the dominant literary mode of last half a century is fantasy?" It was great question for me because that was my dissertation topic. Anyway we talked and went out for drinks afterward, at The Eagle and the Child actually, and have been good friends since. He has an odd work schedule, naturally, but whenever he's home he makes an effort to meet up with me. We enjoy each others' company. Turns out I live not far from him. I guess I did score good when I found this flat. Ended up in the nice part of town. Where all the celebs live. Although I haven't seen Tom Hiddleston walking around yet...

I smile and swipe the screen to read what he wrote.

"Are you doing anything right now?"

I text him back. "Reading and then sleeping"

"Can you come over?"

Right now? I sigh. I'm not paying for a cab just to go over a few streets so I'll have to get out my bike. Plus it's dark. And it will probably rain. Anyway, I'm not exactly in the mood for going out. I'm ready to finish my day. My phone vibrates again. Twice.

"Can you?"

"Please?"

Gosh, he's desperate. I wonder what's up.

"On my way" I reply.

I take a sip of my tea but it's too hot to down right now. I put on my coat, hat, scarf, and gloves, slip on some boots, sadly look back at my tea, and then head downstairs. I wiggle my bike out of the hallway and lock the door on my way out. Nightime in London is really quite lovely. It's fun to be out when most everyone is in. Riding under the stars and streetlights. It is a bit nippy out. I wouldn't be surprised if we get our first snow soon.

I pull up to his flat and ring his floor. A few seconds later he buzzes me in. I make my way up to the third floor and he opens the door right when I get there. "Hey," I grin. He nods and flashes a quick smile and then turns and I follow him in. Now his flat is nice. Very modern. Cool furniture and neat lighting. He has these big windows that look down at the silent street below.

"Cuppa tea? Kettle's just boiled," are the first words he says to me. It's not completely unusual behavior, but there's got to be some reason that he wanted me to come over. I decide to just play along and not press him.

"Please," I say pleasantly and sake a seat on a bar stool. I watch him set out and pour two cups.

"Sugar?" He looks up and asks. I shake my head. He knows that I like my tea without sugar or milk. Just hot and strong. But I guess that doesn't stop his gentlemanly manners.

"Thanks," I say as he hands it over to me. I breathe in the steam and take a sip. Perfect. Finally I shall have my tea. He leans back against the counter and sips his too. He looks thoughtful but I decide not to ask him any questions. We sip our tea in silence. But it's not awkward. At least I don't feel awkward. Of course I'm growing anxious and I want to know why I came out here to silently sip my tea with him instead of Charles Dickens. But since he's a guy and I've learned that they tend to only open when they're ready, quite different from my girlish self, with my thoughts and words that are racing everywhere, all the time, I decide to be patient. So I contentedly sit back and enjoy my tea.


End file.
